


You're Clearly Hurting Stop Putting Up A Strong Front

by clonethemidwife



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22392175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clonethemidwife/pseuds/clonethemidwife
Summary: Not new, just going through my tumblr and bringing fic over to AO3. Don't have dates for all of them.
Relationships: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner & Patrick Turner, Bernadette | Shelagh Turner & Timothy Turner
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	You're Clearly Hurting Stop Putting Up A Strong Front

**Author's Note:**

> For @mg-bsl381, sorry this is a year late. I had the first part mostly done and then forgot what I’d wanted to write for the bonus, but here they are! I hope they were worth the wait!

Turnadette  
4\. “You’re clearly hurting stop putting up a strong front” (and a bonus one shot with Tim and Shelagh!)

“Shelagh, you’re so clearly hurting! Stop putting up a strong front! You don’t have to go this alone. You are not alone! Let me help!” Patrick pleaded with her, his exasperation finally overtaking his concern for the first time that week. He wondered if his anger might frighten her, but he couldn’t help it. He hated feeling powerless, and he hated that he couldn’t protect his soon-to-be bride from this. He knew there would be talk, though the specific speculations and how long they would take to die down had shocked him. Patrick wrapped his arms around her, remarking to himself that she felt even smaller now, a sure sign of the toll the talks had taken on her. He willed his heart to stop racing as Shelagh’s head fell to his chest. “It will all pass in time, Shelagh. Until then, we just need to stick together.” Patrick told her as the first of her tears marked a path down her cheeks.  
—–  
“Timothy, dear, what’s wrong?”  
“It’s nothing.” Timothy mumbled. Shelagh looked him over, one eyebrow arched, trying to discern the source of the problem. “I’m fine.” He insisted as she examined him.  
“No, you aren’t. Why don’t you try telling me what’s wrong, dearest.”  
“I don’t need to talk to you because nothing’s wrong.”  
“Timothy,” Shelagh warned. Timothy failed to suppress his eyes rolling when Shelagh said his name. “Mind your attitude, young man. I know you’re hurting, and I know you feel you have to put up a strong front for me, but you don’t. And if you roll your eyes at me again in other circumstances you’ll not see the outside of your room for a week, young man.”  
“Sorry.”  
“Now, what’s wrong?”  
“It’s my legs.” Shelagh rushed to examine them, her nurses training taking over. “They aren’t how they used to be. They still hurt, and they get heavy.”  
“Why didn’t you tell us?”  
“I didn’t want you to keep me in again.”  
“If you’d told us, we could have told you that it is normal, after polio, for your body to take time to come back to how it was.” Shelagh gently explained.  
“But they’ll never look normal again, will they?” Timothy looked down, trying to hide the tears in his eyes.  
Shelagh gathered him into her arms and stroked his hair and his back while Timothy cried.  
“I didn’t want dad to know.”  
“It’ll be our secret, Timmy.”


End file.
